i never thought someone could be so dirty, and i never thought i could be so desperate.
it was always them, them them them, until it wasn't. but even then, i wasn't your them.
it didn't matter who i was. i spread my arms and legs out onto the table like the harvestmen i am. i placed the scalpel into your hands and sat still as you picked out my veins one by one, re-wiring them into something unimaginable, changing my thought process and clouding my brain with your cheap halloween fog machine.
maybe that's why i was so blind. you tricked me. you carved a hole in my heart and sucked the common sense out of my blood.
you are a mosquito.
they are my least favourite insect. they buzz around your head all drunk and hungry, waiting for just the right moment to suck you dry.
i wouldn't say you're any different.
i felt dry around you. i was tired of jumping to get your attention, waving my hands above the crowd inside your zombie brain. that crowd was filled with someone who you couldn't get over, and the blank space for the next person that was to replace them.
i prayed for it to be me. i begged, i fell to my knees. the concrete left scapes and asphalt on them, but you did much much worse.
you aren't just a blood sucking culicidae but the rotten fruit that attracts flies. my second least favourite insect.
it doesn't matter to you that my veins are still trying to slide back into their original positions. the silence left between us scrapes my insides, yet i'm still somehow aching for more, more, more.
do i want to be hurt?
i don't want to go back, never. i get heartburn and a fire in my stomach just thinking about it. i cut those metal chains that left cherry marks on my wrists but there is still an invisible string. i don't know you, i don't know who you are anymore, and i'm never coming back,
but sometimes i think about it.
